


i'll crawl home to her

by redledgers



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lowercase, Post-Season/Series 04, Returning Home, Softness, Wings, metaphors and vague smut and look i'm just feeling soft okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 16:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20343400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers
Summary: welcome home, she says in so many ways.welcome home.





	i'll crawl home to her

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i've had enough of living lost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21651883) by [redledgers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers). 

> stealing lowercase from incalyscent because i feel like it

he finds her in lux one evening, before the club would have been open. she sits alone at the empty bar with a drink in her hand; she’d helped herself in his absence, despite the shuttered doors. he would be lying if he said his heart didn’t stutter when she looks up at him with a smile and rises just so to kiss him gently. he would be lying if he said he had felt something more holy than the softness of her lips against his. _welcome home,_ she says in so many ways. _welcome home._

and it is a homecoming, the way she cups his face, traces the line of his stubble with her thumbs, lets her forehead rest against his. it is a homecoming when his hands find purchase at her waist and she steps closer, because they have been too far apart for too long. her body is warm against his and centuries of aching make themselves known, unfurling behind his ribs.

he wants, he wants, he _wants._

there were floodgates he didn’t know were there, but really he should have expected it; three years of finding the words and another (too many) of solitude have only let the river swell to an untamable crescendo. he crashes into her and only thinks for a moment about the elevator before she has already begun to pull him there. he has dreamed of this moment every night he allowed his eyes to flutter shut, if only for the briefest of minutes. her desperation is a balm on his soul, her hands a spark on a mission to bring every wall down. 

they’re feverish and gentle all at once, and he finds home again, this time with his face pressed against her belly, steadying his breaths against the softness of her body. he has made a promise and he delivers, with oaths spoken into her skin, against her lips, spilled across the silk sheets he knows she has taken care to keep fresh. to keep it like a home. as if, in his absence, she has taken up residence in more than just his heart.

his heart nearly bursts.

what he gets he gives tenfold, wings now outstretched and aching for her touch, shuddering at the ghost of her breath, the static of her fingertips. and she is gentle, as if she can weave her love into him with her fingers, her lips, her tongue. after, he does feel like he has been put back together, sewn in place so he will not split when he closes his eyes. in turn, he traces galaxies across the planes of her body, lets it be known that she is good, will _always_ be good.

he presses his hand to her chest, palm slick with oil, and feels the patterns of her heart, breathes the words he has only just seen the truth of against her lips. they are satiated and sainted and her soft gaze is the only benediction he needs. it is a homecoming and a baptism all at once.

still, there are things he still needs to say that can’t be said with his head between her thighs or his lips against hers. she lets him talk, patient as he fumbles through words he has never had to speak, not in a thousand years. when he has finished, she draws him into her arms and doesn’t let him go. and still he aches, but he is home.

he is home, he is home, he is home.


End file.
